Like everyone, I’ve been transfixed by the news lately. It’s been hard to tear myself away from the updates coming out of Japan -first an earthquake, then a tsunami, then nuclear disaster. It’s been frightening, frustrating, and deeply unsettling. To quote journalist Sree Sreenivasan‘s excellent column at DNAinfo, this is the most documented event in history.

For the past few days, I’ve hesitated to look at any “before/after” photos -not because I don’t think they’re important or good at providing perspective, but because I keep putting myself in the shoes of those who’ve lost houses, friends, loved ones: would I be okay with having some stranger ooohh and aaahh (and awwww) over where I used to live, where I built a life, and where only destruction and radiation reign now? I’d like to slap that stranger, actually. Stop your aww and do something.

So it caught my attention when I saw, last Friday evening, a link that Elephant Journal had posted to Facebook relating to Japanese erotica; a comment hd been posted below it, questioning the wisdom of said link owing to the tragedy that was unfolding. The link -and page -have since been removed. Hmmm. Seeing the article gave me a wholly different, if surreal, perspective on the crisis in Japan. There’s so much more to Japan (or Haiti, or New Zealand) than collapsed buildings and scenes of destruction. The people that walk through the mud with their small bags of belongings, remainders of their past lives, are a vital part of a culture we so easily take for granted within the sphere of both global and local experience. It was weirdly heartening (and humanizing) to be reminded of such an intimate aspect of Japanese culture at such a bewildering, tragic time.

But I can’t begin to describe the guilt I feel over all such newsy discoveries. It’s not like I didn’t know about these artists before. I’m suddenly seeing all these reports as a direct result of my mental tuner being firmly zoned in on the Japan frequency for the last five days. I love these artists. I love their work. Life would not be the same -not as bright, gorgeous, inspiring, or challenging -without their uniquely wonderful visions. I don’t want a tragedy to happen in order to remember and recognize them. All I can do, I think, is share my love of what they’ve contributed -to their country and to the world -and move along. It feels like the least -the very least -I can do.